Click

by Tymber Dalton

  This was all Mistress he’d be dealing with today, he knew. From the tone of her voice over the phone when she’d called him at work five minutes before he was scheduled to leave for the day, to the orders she’d given him as she did so.

  He loved it.

  Most of his own life was spent Dominant—at work, even at home, to a certain extent. Abbey liked to submit to him, too, and their default mode gently leaned toward him being the stronger of the two. Not by conscious thought or action, it just…happened.

  That was the nice thing about them both being switches, there was never a power vacuum between them. Their dynamic ebbed and flowed as their energy levels did.

  And damn good thing, too, because he needed a subbie day.

  A masochistic fix.

  Outside, he heard her car roll into the driveway and shut off. She took her time getting out, probably checking her e-mail on her phone. The sound of the car door shutting meant he could mentally track her progress as he listened.

  Her footsteps on the front walk.

  Her hand on the knob, turning it, swinging the door open.

  “Good boy,” she said.

  It was all he could do not to wag his ass in glee at her tone of voice. Puppy play was on their list of items to try, but he hadn’t yet purchased the gear he wanted for it, like a puppy hood or leather mitts for paws.

  Her high heels clicked on the floor as she went into the living room and set her things down on the couch before walking over to where he knelt in the hallway. Then she kicked off her heels and stood, barefoot, in front of him.

  “Who’s my good boy?” she asked.

  “Me, Mistress.”

  “Yes, you are. Say hello.”

  He scooted forward and kissed her feet, his mind deeply sinking into bliss, knowing he could completely shut down the control center and do nothing more than act and react as she ordered.

  Blessed subspace.

  She leaned over and ruffled his hair. “Did you already take care of George?”

  “Yes, Mistress. I gave him his romaine already.” Her pet tortoise—their pet tortoise, now that they were engaged—was happily sunning himself in his large enclosure on the lanai.

  “Good boy.” She snapped her fingers, making him jump to his feet to follow her. She sat down on the couch and patted her lap.

  Wow. Not even a subtle warm-up. Yay!

  With his cock already rock-hard, he laid across her thighs and closed his eyes again as her left hand hooked around his collar and the right stroked his ass.

  “Tilly’s right. You do have a nice ass,” she said just before she began spanking same said ass with her bare hand.

  He couldn’t help it—he moaned. She wasn’t hitting him hard, her bare-handed spankings never a fraction as vicious as a good paddling. This was simply the appetizer for what he was sure would follow.

  In the bedroom, he’d arranged a couple of towels on the bed, as she’d ordered, along with gloves, lube, the Feeldoe, a condom on the Feeldoe, and the strong vibrator.

  And the Delrin hexrod, an implement that made the most severe rattan cane look fluffy by comparison.

  He’d shivered when he’d pulled it out of the cane tube and neatly laid it on the bed, arranging it with everything else.

  That damn thing would leave muscle knots in his ass if she hit him hard enough with it.

  He hoped she’d hit him that hard with it.

  He also hoped he hadn’t left a small puddle of pre-cum on the floor where he’d been kneeling and awaiting her.

  Experience told him that his leaking cock meant she’d end up with a small wet spot on the front of her skirt, which she would undoubtedly make him lick before taking him into the bedroom for his “punishment.”

  More like funishment, really, but hey, it worked for them. He wasn’t complaining, and neither was she.

  After a few minutes, she stopped, running her hand over his warmed ass cheeks. “Is everything ready like I ordered?” she asked.

  “Yes, Mistress.” Even he heard the slur in his voice. No other partner had ever been able to drop him this deep into subspace before. Due in no small part, he knew, to the trust he had in her.

  The love.

  The knowledge that she enjoyed this every bit as much as he was enjoying it.

  “Then get up.”

  He did, not even wobbling on his feet as he stood.

  “Tsk.” She looked down at her skirt. “Someone was a bad boy.” She pointed.

  Yep, there was a wet spot.

  Without her even asking, he dropped to his knees in front of her and started licking the fabric.

  Her fingers plunged into his hair, keeping him in place. “Such a goood boy,” she whispered. “Didn’t even have to tell you what to do.”

  The sound of her voice vibrated through him, to his core, enveloping him.

  There were still two months until their wedding. At this rate, John wasn’t even worried they might wear themselves out before then.

  He knew they were just getting started in their life together. They hadn’t even begun to plumb the depths of the well of their mutual kinkiness together.

  Finally, she patted the top of his head. “Good enough for now. Let’s move to the bedroom.”

  He stood and offered her a hand up. She led the way, the soft swish of her skirt loud in the otherwise quiet house. At their bedroom door, she paused, appraising.

  “Excellent,” she said. “Good job. Go stand at the end of the bed.”

  Hurrying to comply, he dashed past her and fought the urge to dance from foot to foot in his eagerness to play.

  Abbey, however, knew how eager he was and decided to draw it out. A little bit of subtle sadism. She took her time getting undressed, using the bathroom, freshening up, leaving him standing there and growing more anxious by the moment.

  When she returned to the bedroom, she hooked her fingers through the back of his collar and bent him over the end of the bed. “Who wants a nice sore ass before they get fucked?”

  “Me, Ma’am.” He closed his eyes, widening his stance for balance as he rested his weight on his elbows.

  This was going to really.

  Fucking.

  Hurt.

  His cock throbbed in anticipation.

  The Delrin hexrod lay next to him. She picked it up and touched the end of it to his lips. He sucked on it, laving his tongue over it the way he would her clit or finger or even her toe.

  That earned him a chuckle. “God that’s so fucking sexy.” She pulled the cane away and laid it across his ass. “These are going to hurt,” she warned him. “You haven’t had any in a while, and I feel badly about that.”

  That was all the warning she gave him before she laid the first stroke across his ass.

  He dropped his head to the bed, forehead pressed against the covers as he moaned. Yes, it fucking hurt.

  And it made his cock throb even more.

  No, he wasn’t a true masochist. It wasn’t the pain that turned him on, it was her control of it and of him, her Domination, her love.

  That was sexier than hell.

  He didn’t have to keep count of the strokes, fortunately for him. That allowed him to slip even deeper into subspace, to relish every impact, every ounce of pain spiraling outward from its landing point, every rush of endorphins swelling in on the backside.

  Tossing the cane onto the bed, she reached for the disposable gloves and lube. “You know what comes next, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he mumbled.

  Good thing for the towels, or there would be a wet spot on the bed, too.

  He felt her hands on his ass, spreading his cheeks, working cool lube inside him and making him moan. One finger, then two, and a third, slowly fucking his ass with them as he flexed his hips in time with her motions.

  “Good boy,” she whispered. “Such a good boy for me.”

  “Thank You, Ma’am.”

  The hands withdrew. She picked up the Feeldoe, inserted the one end in
her, then he felt the business end pressing for entrance against his ass.

  A loud, low, needy moan escaped him.

  “Yes, you’ve been wanting this, too, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” It was one thing to wear a butt plug when they played.

  It was entirely another—and better—thing to have her actively fuck his ass. Her ownership of him, complete and without any debate or question. No different than when he fucked her with his own cock, as he had that morning, making them both ten minutes late out the door to work.

  Taking her time, she slowly worked the condom-clad head of the fake cock into his back channel, his cock throbbing in time with her steady progress. Then came the feeling of her body pressed against his aching ass and the backs of his thighs.

  She stripped off her gloves and dropped them to the floor before reaching for the vibrator. “Okay. Time for some fun.” He felt her slide the vibrator between their bodies, against her clit, and turn it on.

  That’s when she started fucking his ass.

  Her moans echoed his. Starting slow, she picked up speed and force until he was slamming back against her, trying to get the dildo into him as deeply as it would go. Faint vibrations ran through the Feeldoe and down into his ass from the vibrator, only adding to his pleasure.

  Then she orgasmed.

  For the first time.

  He smiled even as he continued moaning. Now that she was on a roll, she would ride him, use him, for several more minutes before reaching around him and getting him off.

  He loved it. Loved when she used him like that, for her pleasure, for her amusement. Whether it was mummifying him in plastic wrap from the neck down and cutting a hole in it so she could ride his cock when she wanted, or tying him up and sitting on his face until he licked and sucked her to several orgasms, or being used as her fuck toy, he enjoyed every second of it.

  It made him happy.

  Made him feel wanted.

  Needed.

  Loved.

  Useful.

  After what he knew had to be several orgasms for her, she shut off the vibrator and, as expected, reached around to find his cock.

  “Your turn,” she said, slicking his own pre-cum over his member and stroking him.

  It wouldn’t take long, not with her still fucking his ass and the Feeldoe hitting him right in the prostate with every thrust. Within a few strokes of her hand, he felt his release building, reaching critical mass until he threw his head back and moaned and his balls pumped hot cum all over her hand.

  “That’s my good boy,” she said, still stroking him until she was sure he’d finished. She let go of his cock and held her hand in front of his mouth.

  Eagerly, he laved his tongue all over her, cleaning her up. Hey, she swallowed. And it was his own cum. There was no reason why he wouldn’t do this for her. While he did, she ran the nails of her other hand up and down his spine, making him shiver in a good way.

  Finally, she patted him on the back. “Clean up time.”

  He waited for her to withdraw and step back before he straightened and turned. She gave him the Feeldoe to clean up and headed for the shower, where he joined her a few minutes later, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her deeply.

  Then she snuggled against him and he felt the energy shift. Specifically, her energy.

  “Long day?” he asked.

  “Frustrating. We had to deal with letting someone go who’s been doing very poorly with their accounts and it was a massive ordeal with HR. But now they’re finally gone and not our problem anymore.”

  He nuzzled the top of her head. “Ah. I wondered.”

  “Was it that obvious?”

  “Not specifically. But it was kind of out of the blue, the way you hit me up. Not that I’m complaining,” he quickly added.

  She looked up, smiling. “I didn’t think you were complaining.” Droplets of water beaded in her hair from the spray. “You didn’t sound like you were complaining.”

  “Those were the sounds of a very happy man,” he said.

  “I know.” She rested her head against his chest again. “I’m glad it doesn’t bother you to do stuff like that.”

  “I love making you happy. Even if I didn’t enjoy it—which I did—I’d still want to do it to make you happy.”

  “But that’s not the way I want you to be.”

  “That’s the way I want to be. If I really didn’t want to do something, I’d say so. I’m not a child or an immature brat. I promise, I’ll tell you. Just like I want you to promise to tell me.”

  She sighed. “There is one thing I want.”

  “What’s that?”

  “For our wedding date to hurry up and get here. I keep worrying you’ll change your mind about me.”

  He laughed, the sound echoing off the shower’s tiled walls. “Never, baby. You’re stuck with me forever.”

  After their shower they dried each other off and headed out to the kitchen. Tonight would be leftovers, nothing fancy. He loved that she’d grown as comfortable being naked around the house as he was.

  It definitely gave him something lovely to look at.

  While she was out checking on George, he remembered to take a peek.

  Yep, there was a dried patch of his cum on the flooring where he’d been kneeling, waiting for her. He grabbed a damn paper towel and got it wiped up before she returned.

  After dinner, they snuggled together on the couch, her head in his lap as she handed the clicker over to him. “You pick,” she said. “I’m brain dead tonight.”

  He stopped at a rerun of The Big Bang Theory, a guaranteed laugh for them both.

  As she laid there, she found his hand and laced her fingers through his, squeezing. “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what?”

  She looked up at him. “For taking care of me. Of all of me. And George.”

  “Baby, I love you. Why wouldn’t I take care of you? And him.”

  “I meant my bottom side and my Toppy side.”

  He stroked her hair with his free hand. “Again, why wouldn’t I? You take care of both of my sides.”

  “It’s just, I like how you don’t have expectations. You kind of go with it.”

  He didn’t need further explanation. They’d had plenty of talks about her ex and how he’d handled things.

  Especially the way he’d dumped her just before she’d needed back surgery, because she wasn’t “dominant” enough for him anymore.

  “We’re people first, babe,” he said, meaning it. “What we do works for us. I don’t give a crap how anyone else does it as long as you and I are happy. And I’m happy.”

  She smiled. “I’m happy, too.”

  “Good. Then that’s settled, right?”

  “Right.”

  Yes, their wedding day couldn’t get there soon enough for his liking. He already had some deliciously evil plans for their wedding night and knew she was working on a few of her own as well. They’d need a vacation to recover from their honeymoon at the rate they were going.

  And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Sully, Mac, and Clarisse

  Safe harbors come in all shapes and sizes…

  * * * *

  “Go ahead and set it,” Clarisse called out as she shifted the smoothly throbbing engines into neutral.

  On the bow, the anchor splashed into the water, the chain unwinding from the windlass as it played out and turned into rope. Clarisse bumped the engines into reverse, just enough thrust to stop their forward momentum and let the current pull them back to more easily set the anchor before setting the drift alarm.

  With clear skies and calm seas, it was a beautiful Tuesday to be out on the boat.

  Made even better with a friend at their home, babysitting their two sons. That gave Clarisse, Mac, and Sully a few hours out on the water.

  And since they were on the water, that meant boat rules applied.

  Mac was in control.

  In fact, Clarisse had put
her play collar on as soon as they’d pulled out of their berth at the marina. Mac had put Sully’s on him once they’d hit the headmarker at the end of the channel and were heading out into the Gulf, past Anclote Island.

  It’d been a while since full-on boat rules had applied. The three of them didn’t get much time out on the boat alone. And sometimes it was just two of them at a time, meaning Clarisse usually let Mac and Sully go so Sully could give masochistic Mac the time he needed.

  But not today.

  Today was all about boat rules.

  Clarisse held her breath as Mac made his way aft from the bow without losing his grip or his footing. This was a sight that, at one point, Clarisse wasn’t even sure she’d ever see again. The image of Mac lying in that hospital bed, in a coma, following the brutal attack by her ex, was never more than a moment’s thought from her consciousness, no matter how hard she tried to get rid of it.

  Some memories just couldn’t be erased.

  He jumped down onto the deck and pulled Sully in for a kiss. “Get naked, buddy,” Mac told Sully. Then he glanced at Clarisse and arched an eyebrow. “Why are you still dressed?”

  She grinned as she shut off the engines and cranked the generator. “I’m working on it, Sir.” She pulled her shirt off. “Better?”

  “Almost.” He pointed a finger at her shorts, drawing a circle in the air. “Those, too, sweetheart.”

  “I’m getting there.” She folded up her shirt and laid it on the dash.

  “Get there faster.” He reached out and cupped the back of Sully’s neck. “I know it’s boat rules, but how much latitude have I earned?”

  Sully smirked. “Complete.”

  “Oooh. Good.” He started pushing Sully down to his knees. “Then blowjob first. I don’t get enough of those from you.”

  “Hey!” Clarisse playfully protested as she balanced on one foot and tried to get her shorts off without falling over. “I give you blowjobs all the time, Sir.”

  “I know you, do—oh, fuck that’s good. I know you give them to me, but he doesn’t. I was not casting aspersions on your oral talents, baby.” He now cupped Sully’s head in both hands, his cock already down Sully’s throat.

  Clarisse could barely hear the sound of the waves gently lapping against the boat’s fiberglass hull over the sound of the generator rumbling below decks. Entranced, she watched as Sully—usually their Master—slowly got his mouth fucked by Mac.